


The History of Humanoids (As Told From the Perspective of a Dwarf)  By Hendrickson Ironrot

by AVainOddity



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Ascent to Queendom, Broken Tenets, Dragonborn (D&D), Elf, Fictional History, Gen, Goblins, High Fantasy, Homebrew Content, Kenku, Manipulation(?), Mild torture, No use of the Alignment Chart, Orcs, Satyr, Self made world, Silver dragon, Tabaxi, The Feywild, Vampires, Werewolves, lots of magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:47:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28871046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AVainOddity/pseuds/AVainOddity
Summary: This is simply an encoded novel for a game that I run that is currently in progress. As time passes in game, my players will learn more about the contents of this book, and thus, more will be posted here.It is written from the perspective of a dwarf named Hendrickson Ironrot, a scholar who spent years of his life collecting historical texts and turning them into these stories, which he has separated into chapters. Who knows why he has encrypted these stories as he did? And perhaps more importantly, why was this hidden away, and no records even show an attempt to have it published?Only time will tell.Also, there are a lot of characters, I know, and unless you've played, you won't understand half the references, but I hope you can enjoy regardless





	1. A Prologue

The history of life on Mistilteinn is a complicated one, with many different races harbouring many different beliefs. The Giant Clans, who were around far longer than the first humanoids, believe humanoids to not have existed until 1500 years ago, but according to historical texts found in the Isles of the First, humanoids have been around for much, much longer, nearly an extra millenia, if the texts are accurate.

According to said texts, there were initially only 13 worshipped gods on the Isles of the First; Talos, God of Storms; Lolth (known as Araushnee as the time), elven goddess of weavers and spiders; Mystra, goddess of Magic; The Raven Queen, goddess of death and safe passage to the afterlife; Pelor, god of the sun and healing; Auril, goddess of winter; Helm, god of protection; Malar, god of the hunt; The Devourer, god of nature’s wrath; Moradin, dwarven god of creation; Yondolla, halfling goddess of fertility and protection; Chauntea, goddess of the harvest; and Selûne, goddess of the moon. Over time many more religions were founded, as gods and goddesses grew to become aware of the presence of lifeforms existing on our planet, and thus made themselves known.

It wasn’t until 500 years of existence exclusively on the small islands that a young girl uncovered the main continent that we now called home. According to the scriptures, she was a follower of The Traveler, a rather mischievous and chaotic god, and had practice in monastic traditions. Because of her skill set, her god apparently came to her to issue a challenge, “If you can sprint across the sea, you will find a marvelous land of wonders and adventures. I will make you the lady of any land you so wish to be for completing such a feat of courage and heroism.” Some say The Traveler had wanted to see her fail, plummet to the depths of the sea to be devoured, some believe The Traveler was bored of watching life on the Isles, and wanted to create a hero. Regardless, this girl took him up on the challenge, and made a full sprint across the water. If rumours are to be believed, it took her five hours. After arriving at the mountain side, this girl, almost unable to move, asked for that land on which she was laid hers. Thus The First Settlement was founded by a high elf known as Penelope Parvia, who had no clue at the time, but would one day go on to be the first queen of Zetolith.


	2. The Making of a Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This portion is an embellishment based on the journal of First Queen Parvia that was kept in the temple of The Traveler that can be found on the Isles of the First - Hendrickson Ironrot
> 
> (This chapter is the first introduction of the First to life on the main continent of the world I've created. It also establishes a bit of backstory for a few major, and minor, characters in the campaign. Do forgive the lack of detail, as I was writing based on the mentality of a man who was reading through a not incredibly detailed personal journal)

The young Lady Parvia did not stay long in her newly acquired land, as the spirit of The Traveller beckoned her to find even greater lands beyond the mountains upon which she first arove. A mere 10 years after its founding Lady Parvia renounced her title to a close friend and current champion of the Raven Queen, another high elf, Timothe Heri. Penelope set out with the leader of the Temple of Pelor, a human named Lukas Xia, an excommunicated follower of Selûne, a Tabaxi named Silvin Heartpaw, and a prisoner who would have otherwise been sentenced to death, a follower of Mask, god of thieves, a wood elf woman named Constance.

The quartet made their way East, eventually getting out of the mountains and coming across a beautiful forest, one infested with monsters of all sorts. They managed to clear a path through the forest, and make their way to a much more vibrant one, rich soil allowing the plants to grow splendidly, though making them all a shade of auburn red. Unfortunately this is where the group met their first loss… In the night a gang of goblins and orcs (prior to being civilized) ambushed and narrowly escaped with an unconscious Constance.

Lukas did his best to convince the other two not to pursue, but Silvin and Penelope refused to abandon an ally, regardless of her previous crimes. Stalking through the forest, Penelope managed to track the hoard to their encampment, where she bore witness to the horrors of the uncivilized. Fifteen orcs and more than twice as many goblins took their turns brutalizing Constance, whether that be torture or simply feasting upon her flesh. Eventually the only recognizable feature was the roots black hair, the rest of which was stained with her blood.

The three could do nothing but watch in horror until the green folk grew tired of their new plaything, which failed to happen until well after nightfall. When the last of the monsters went to bed, Penelope and Silvin went about their work of slitting the throats of every last creature in the encampment, including the women and children. Lukas however, had other plans. Constance was sentenced to death, and this was an ideal opportunity to finally complete the sentence. He made his way over to Constance, who was laid across the still burning embers of the night’s bonfire, and raised his holy symbol in prayer to his lord, Pelor. With a swift motion, he brought his mace down, ending Constance’s life with a blow to the head.

Unfortunately for poor Lukas, Pelor did not take kindly to such a vile act, Lukas looked down at his holy symbol, which began to glow a radiant golden light, then shattered. In the dead of night a beam of sunlight came tearing through the sky, burning into Lukas. Penelope and Silvin, both unaware of the reason for this at the moment attempted to help only to be repelled by the voice of Pelor himself, “This man has forsaken his oaths to protect and heal by ending the life of a woman who was attempting to repent for her sins! AN ALLY! A COMRADE! You make me sick to look at boy, therefore you shall be punished accordingly!” And thus came the birth of the first of the Kenku. Pelor, in his fury transformed Lukas into a murder of four of the flightless anthropomorphic birds.

“I shall bind these creatures to your bidding Lady Parvia, you see The Traveler is not the only one who wishes to see you succeed. They can all heal just as well as that disgrace could, so I am certain they shall prove useful. I wish you well,” and with that, the light disappeared, and now the six were left with the body of a wonderful ally in an encampment of dead monsters. The burial was quick, and far less than what Constance deserved, but the smell of death lingered, and predators were bound to make their way over in no time at all. Silvin suggested they add the Kenku to the piles of bodies being left behind, but Pelor insisted they serve, and Penelope would not wish to anger the god after seeing his wrath.

The group made their way further East, eventually coming across more mountains, these ones specifically faintly blue in colour. Following the base of the mountains, around the southern edge, they eventually came across a large, carved opening. Carvings of great beasts never before seen by anyone present adorned either side of the doorway. Great scaled beasts, wings of tremendous size, and lightning striking into the mouth of it? No, not entering, but taking its leave. A creature with a breath of lightning… The idea left the group stunned long enough for the presence of a large scaled figure to approach as ask them if they enjoyed the carvings his family had made.

Turning Penelope came face to face with a blue scaled creature of great stature. He introduced himself as Maximillion Dragonroyale, current head of the blue Dragonborn clan, and lead burial director of blue dragons. He escorted the group back to his homestead, and surprised them with just how civilized these people were. This was the first time a non-Dragonborn had ever been to these lands, and they were treated as royalty. Four more of these homesteads exist in proximity to this one, each run by a different colour of Dragonborn, and each created by the goddess Tiamat to serve as a burial place for her children, the great Chromatic Dragons. After several months of learning of the customs of this new culture, and witnessing a dragon burial first hand, Penelope insisted they get a move on. When asked where they were headed, and simply responding, “East,” Maximillion couldn’t help but laugh.

In the East is the Marsh, a poisonous land that would lead to the death of the group, and at the request of Maximillion, the ever growing group would make their way North, escorted by his eldest daughter, Silvia. To the North was a port town and the Metallic Dragonborn, who could offer safe passage to the Illustrious Canopy, safely avoiding The Marsh. Happy to avoid reaching an early grave, the group gladly made their way North, and with the help of Silvia, they managed to avoid several potentially deadly encounters. Reaching the port, they saw only a few decent fishing vessels that could hold no more than two dozen people. Silvia arranged safe travel and issued a warning for them to not venture too deep into the canopy, some folks she knew disappeared in them a few years back, and their bodies have never been recovered. With that in mind, they were off, on the inner sea, waves much less choppy than they were all those years ago when Penelope first ran across them.

Who could have thought people like these Dragonborn existed? They have been around for ages, maybe the First weren’t the first afterall… And these Metallic Dragonborn worship a god known as Bahamut? What else has this continent hidden from them, and for how long? Whatever the case, the journey was bound to be long, and the storm clouds rolling in made every last member of the first on that ship wish the worshipped Talos, if only for but a moment. Regardless these fishermen were apparently incredibly competent, and managed to avoid having the vessel capsize, and in no more than a week of sailing later, the boat ran ashore a few days’ travel from The Marsh. The Dragonborn had to get home to take care of their families and couldn’t carry the party any further. With much appreciation for their time and effort, the sailors took off, and the party made their way into the canopy, thinking they were being careful. After several days of travel, something felt off, trees were becoming knotted and twisted in unnatural ways, and the sounds of wildlife had changed drastically. Had someone noticed a few moments later they may have been spared this horrifying encounter, but unbeknownst to them, they had entered the Feywild.  
It wasn’t until several hours later that the party noticed, the sun hadn’t set… if fact there was no sun at all. This place seemed to be a perpetual state of early dusk, and at the realization they could hear a small giggle, and a soft voice taunting them. How long it took you to realize is amusing to me, it almost felt like a whisper in their minds. Silvin demanded who ever was speaking revealed themselves, and a petite satyr came to approach them.

“My name is Tel’Avae, though my friends call me Tel. Where might you all be from?” The party shocked by this creature, whom none had ever come across, gave their names in response. “May I ask, are you lost? If you are, I can guide you, though I may need a favour in return.” While Penelope was hesitant to take Tel on her deal, being lost in a foreign land, and stumbling into places they shouldn’t resulted in the death of Constance, and Lukas becoming the Kenku. With a horrible feeling in her stomach, Penelope agreed and asked what sort of favour the Satyr wanted. “It’s simple really, I have yet to be able to leave my homeland no matter how hard I try. All I ask is that I may get to explore the Material Plane a little bit and have some fun,” a mischievous smile flashing across her lips in an instant. With the promise to create a way to allow Tel to explore the Material Plane, she set upon leading them to what she promised was a safe place.

A few days of travel took place, undisturbed by any potential dangers, the party came across a grand mansion, of sorts. Towering approximately seventy feet upwards and extending in distance too far for the eye to see, this home would hardly be considered one by most but Tel said nothing more than, “The Council stays here when they meet, but otherwise this is the home of the von Keths. I recommend you do your best to be friendly with them, as they are quite important people, okay?” And with that disappeared with a slight giggle and a gust of wind.

A few hours passed before anyone grew the courage to knock at the door, a massive structure in and of itself, 30 feet from top to bottom and 20 from side to side. Such a door should have been impossible to move, yet a slender elder elf did so with ease. The older man introduced himself as Ieldrog, and while he was not a servant nor member of the house, he came to request something of the von Keths as well. His days were reaching their end, yet his work was not done. He guided them to a grand central chamber, passing hundreds of stunning tapestries along the way, and introducing the group to Lord Lythe von Keth and his lovely wife Lady Zeta von Keth.

A conversation took place, that to anyone not paying attention, it would seem rather casual, but to Penelope, who was heavily engrossed, the tension made the air feel as thin as a mountain top. Ieldrog spoke to them in the language of dragons, something Penelope had learned of in her time around the Dragonborn, but could not herself understand. Eventually the conversation shifted to elvish, and a decree was made by the lord and lady simultaneously, “If you wish for life eternal, then be prepared to pay the price!” The chamber shook, and laughter could be heard echoing from far beyond the walls of the building.

True horror crossed Ieldrog’s face as the party watched in horror while the gentleman began to wither away, and in response, his form began to grow and shift. Forearms becoming enlarged and glistening, as silver scales break through the skin. Large horns sprouted from the forehead, as fangs and a scaled snout formed. Majestic wings tore through the clothing across Ieldrog’s back, and a large tail followed. Soon, a room that could have fit hundreds of soldiers with ease, was filled by a dragon so large and old that calling it ancient would have been quite the understatement. And his body was crumbling away as the moments passed. The cursing that ensued and the drop in temperature from the breath of the dragon, as it attempted to harm the very elves it came to ask a favour of, caused fear to sore through Penelope’s heart. Unable to flee, as the walls were covered in a thick layer of ice. Watching in horror, Penelope saw the dragon slowly resign itself to its fate, and eventually in the midst of the decaying body, a silver light began to shine. The dragon’s breathing slowed to a harsh rasp, and a final tear fell from his eye, somehow solidifying into a scaled silver teardrop.

A servant fetched the teardrop, and approached the location of the glow. The dragon’s body had withered to ash in its entirety now, and at the center of it all, the item creating a glow, was a beautiful silver rapier, a scale pattern forming the basket hilt. Both were wrapped in a beautiful purple linen, and brought over to the nobles. “Now as for you lot,” started Lord Lythe, “at the very least, you were smart enough to bring an elf with you to this discussion, so we shall listen to your request.” And with that, Penelope, sensing that she was the only one who the nobles would ever listen to, explained the situation. “Well if Tel sent you our way, I suppose we are meant to cut a deal. You want a way out, and we want some influence on the Material Plane. What say you that we give you some power? This new continent is currently free of a ruler, and with the backing of us, high ranking members of the council, you could rule it yourself girl.”

“You could take this opportunity and civilize the orcs and goblins you encountered, save the citizens from meeting the same fate as your compatriot,” the Lady continued. “I imagine they would make excellent labourers, and with a dash of Fey influence, they could be swayed rather easily. And truly, all we ask for in return is your loyalty, a marvelous deal, no?” Penelope was not a fan of the proposition, but knew she had little choice. “I can see you are not trusting of our intentions, so… take this rapier. Your friend, the cat, looks as if they could make use of it. Come hither and take up Ieldrog, the Rapier of Silver Scales. May it serve you well.”

Seeing no other option the two were happy to oblige, and the subservient Kenku followed the lead of the elf and Tabaxi, as Pelor commanded of them. Penelope was bestowed with the blessing of the von Keths and a scroll bearing their seal, and Silvin accepted the blade, though clear resentment emanated from their body while doing so.  
“Now, you have been provided in that scroll, a method to carve mountains to your will,” began the Lord “to the North of the canopy from whence you came lies mountains that would provide great protection. Make your way there, climb for a day, and create yourself a castle. Upon achieving this, you shall receive further aid to properly establish your reign. Are these instructions clear enough, for you?”

A simple nod of reply was all the two elves needed to see, and that they got. “Then off with you,” Zeta said with a wave of her hand. The forms of glowing indigo moths surrounded the collection of adventurers, completely obscuring their view, and as the near blinding light faded away. Stood in knee high grass below a canopy of towering trees, the fireflies overhead resembling the starry night sky, the party took a deep breath. Finally, the Material Plane once again. With clear instructions laid out before them, and no time to waste, the companions pushed themselves to their best approximation of what North was, utilizing basic survival skills to the best of their abilities. Eventually they did find the mountains they were told of, and Penelope did precisely as she was told, creating a massive plateau, and immediately next to the mountainside, the castle. Upon completion, an additional scroll was delivered via means of the arcane, providing instructions as to how to establish her reign more thoroughly.

First, establish means of communication with those of the First, as well as the Dragonborn. Second, begin setting the foundations necessary for living, food supply, shelter, and the like. Third, civilizing the wildlings, the orcs and goblins who survive through brutal hunting of both people and animals. Fourth, establish a system of trade, and eventually create currency. Fifth, become allies with the giants in the mountains, such allies would be invaluable. Sixth, begin exploration of the rest of the continent, and gather resources. Finally, don’t forget who is responsible for your success. And following these instructions, the capital city of Zetolith was founded, and to this day the Parvia Matriarchy still reigns, more than a millenia later. Through ups and downs Penelope’s descendants have guided the people to greatness, just as she once did.

May the First Queen of Zetolith rest well knowing her country is in safe hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is actually reading this, let me know what you thought. Especially if you aren't one of my players. If this doesn't make sense to people who aren't involved in the campaign, then I should really re-evaluate my writing style


	3. The Finwill Family: Bloodline Eternal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another embellishment from the journal of the previously mentioned Timothe Heri, the first Champion of the Raven Queen of the New Continent

Timothe was not left in charge of the First Settlement for very long before nightmares began to plague his mind. No more than three months after the departure of his close friend Penelope the voice of his goddess came to him in the midnight hours of his trance. She warned him of an encroaching threat from the North, a family of vampires in pursuit of a gentleman who was no more than a day’s ride away. Come the morn, Timothe assembled a group of capable warriors, and mounting his steed, Cloudracer, they tore through the mountains, in desperate search for the man the Raven Queen sent them to find and rescue.

It took until almost nightfall to come across the target of the mission, who was hidden away in a shallow cave. Having expected a man, the Champion was shocked to find a human boy, not even a decade and a half old, body covered in scars and blood, with a poorly bandaged wound running down his right arm, elbow to wrist, nearly damaging the tendon. In the hand of the damaged arm, with a grip like death had taken it’s hold was a crossbow crackling with the energy of the skies, lightning. In the shoulder of the warrior who found the cave was his final bolt. Heavily breathing, to the point of almost growling, the boy warned the companions to avoid approaching, though Timothe chose to ignore him. The boy clearly needed a healer, and this cave was no place to be treated. Carrying him to the cave’s exit caused the boy to panic, seemingly for no reason.

The sun had set, and the cries that filled the air caused the Raven Queen’s champion to shutter with both fear, and strangely, anticipation. The boy in his arms began to panic and claw, pleading to be let go so he may run, and begging that those who were trying to save him would make haste to the land from which they came. Sensing nothing but true fear coming from the boy, and an even more prominent stench of blood growing closer with each passing moment, Tomothe threw the dark-skinned child upon Cloudracer, and mounted, calling for all of his party to follow his example and return to the settlement. They could heal the boy as they rode via spellcasting.

The boy demanded that if they refused to ignore his pleas of abandonment, that they ride to the nearest large body of water in place of the village. When asked why, he simply replied by explaining it is their only chance at survival. Whatever was giving chase was gaining ground, and putting his people in danger, and Timothe was not going to let the people entrusted to him by his dear friend lose their lives, and thus raced to the nearby river, 60 feet wide, and 3 feet deep at its center. The boy demanded they stop in the center, delivering the lines Timothe would never forget for as long as he lived.

“My name is Ar’kael Finwill, you are about to meet my family that I have sworn to kill. I apologize for what you are about to bear witness to.”

Following that was a cry of pain, as Ar’kael’s nails elongated into claws, his scars covered by a thick fur, and his face became a snout. Each claw dug into the newly furred flesh as the Lycan’s blood burst out and lightning crackled from the claws. The beast let out a howl and let the party know, if anything jumps onto them, to get it into the water, and keep it there. Just then, the putrid smell of the bloodied beasts came tearing through the treeline, screeching. Some bearing a skin tone that resembled Ar’kael’s, others that couldn’t be further. Faces coated in drying blood, and eyes glowing red. And with that, the battle between the vampire clan, and the First began.

The nightwalkers came leaping through the air, over the river, causing warriors to flinch, though they were not the targets. The horses that were recently dismounted fell victim to the creatures, as all but Ar’kael looked on in horror as the monsters tore into the throats of the horses. Ar’kael growled in a deep guttural tone telling the party to drag the bloodsuckers into the water, referring to them as vampires. Not daring to ask any unnecessary questions, Timothe and his group went to work, yanking the vampires off their horses, blood spraying as the fangs tore from the flesh. Ar’kael grabbed two, plunging the claws into their rib cages from below, and slamming them into the water. Immediately, their skin began to boil and bubble and as they burst, a gray ash turned to sludge in the water. Cries of pain filled the air, and for the most part the battle went well. The only casualties on the side of the living were a few of the horses, including Cloudracer, and it was blatantly obvious to even Timothe, the ones attacking them, seemed rather weak, and the ones that had stayed on the shore had an air of confidence to them.

The sun had set no more than an hour before the battle started, and the battle itself lasted half an hour, but that by no means meant that they were safe. Less than 10 miles away was the First Settlement, and a majority of its defenders found themselves standing thigh deep in the water. Leaving the water would mean certain death for the mortals, and the undead leaving would mean they would surrender their prey, the young man who was beginning to return to his human form. Timothe decided that, in this standstill, Ar’kael was to share his story, and the reason he called these leeches family. While hesitant, Ar’kael realized he was going to stand in these waters until sunrise, and a lack of trust could be the difference between life and death.

Ar’kael went about explaining the origins of the Finwill family. Approximately three hundred years ago, in the rolling hills, the Finwills were a peaceful family in their own small homestead, living off of the farmland the family had been tending to for generations. The issue with the current generation of Finwills was their magic practices, the matriarch had taken up necromancy in hopes of allowing her children some free time by utilizing the undead in the fields in their stead. This worked well, for a time… but as it turns out, drudging up dozens of zombies would draw the attention of deities who were none too pleased to see such sacrilege performed. Thusly, guardians of the Upper Planes were sent to dole out justice unto the sinner.

The angelic beings descending from the heavens assaulted the farmstead in search of which family member was responsible for the shambling bodies working the fields. The patriarch took the blame and demanded punishment to be brought upon his head, and pleaded for his family to be left to lead a peaceful life in exchange for his repentance of his death. The bargain was accepted, and the furious matriarch vowed, as she watched her husband’s life end before her very eyes, to spare her family from ever suffering the fate of death. She went to work, gathering the necessary items, she began to experiment with the barriers of life and death, in pursuit of immortality.

The most practical conclusion she came to was the realization of consuming life essence to extend one’s own life, the only question was how? Asking one of her sons, a rather talented practitioner of medicine and its applications, she found that blood was the most viable resource, as it was the highest in both nutritional value and life essence, that would also allow for feeding multiple times, as unlike most parts of the body, it replenishes. Doing research for months on end, she came to the conclusion that the bats that fed through the blood of the livestock were the ideal creatures to attempt to utilize in her experiments.

Several attempts of extracting and combining animal souls resulted in near disastrous failure, but after a few years the first success took place, as a lamb was born with fangs and crimson red eyes. Feeding from the teet of its mother for the first time, it fully exsanguinated her, leaving the ewe a dried husk. Seeing the results of her work, she coaxed the lamb towards the exit of the barnhouse, and out towards the sunlight, to which it refused purely based upon instinct. Failing to understand why, the matriarch approached, thinking the lamb had drank its fill already, but she was severely mistaken. The lamb lunged for her calf, but in place of draining her entirely, she felt something else plus into her, burning at first, but eventually leaving her cold and numb. Checking her incisors, she came to realize two things, she too had turned, and she was very hungry…

Calling for her children, she could smell three of them coming, the three youngest. A marvelous smelling meal… but no, she had to turn them, and displaying an incredible amount of self control she did precisely that. Slowly she managed to turn almost all her children, with the exception of Mir’kael, Ar’kael’s grandmother of several greats. Mir’kael bore witness to the atrocities her family began committing across the land, terrorizing and turning nearby family homestead creating a legion of these beasts, which she declared to be vampires. Those who refused to turn were kept as feed. The only vampire who refused to take part was the doctor, who had taken the life of his love and unborn child shortly after turning, instead feeding off of wildlife, making him far weaker than his brethren.

It was witnessing these horrors that lead Mir’kael to make the decision to dedicate her bloodline to the death of her kinsman, and praying to the goddess of the moon, Selûne, a solution was presented to her. She was to hunt the Grey Wolf that roamed these lands, and consume it’s freshly spilled blood on the night of a full moon. Following the instructions of her goddess, Mir’kael tracked the great beast, a wolf of giant stature, reaching approximately fifteen feet from paw to shoulder. There were still several days before the next full moon and Mir’kael used the opportunity to learn its behaviour and patterns. During the next full moon, the assault was launched to only result in an embarrassing failure. Having expected her life to come to an end as a result, Mir’kael uttered what she thought would be a final prayer before hearing a spine chilling voice in her mind.

“Weaklings have no place trying to earn my gifts”

Baffled by the fact that this mighty beast not only was aware of her intention, but practically challenging her to achieve them, Mir’kael grew angry, but retreated as to avoid expending energy needlessly. She began experimenting with blood magic, specifically starting with transmuting it into a flame. She eventually learned how to ignite her blood, and apply it to her weapon in a singular swift motion. That in itself was still nowhere near enough to defeat the Grey Wolf, who she came to know as Ma'iingan. It was not until Mir’kael learned to sacrifice some of her own life essence to manipulate that of another's did she manage to bring Ma’iingan to his demise. Through months of practice against squirrels and deer, Mir’kael managed to halt them for up to an entire minute, if she was lucky. Relying on this trick and hre flaming blade, the blood of Ma’iingan was spilt on the sixth attempt, and from the throat Mir’kael drank.

As she drank, she began to feel the blood change her form, growing in stature, a thick grey fur, as well as claws and an elongated face. Digging her claws into her furred palms, they ignited with flames, much like her weapon. Mir’kael let out a powerful howl, and she realized that she finally accomplished her goal, but… at the expense of Ma’iingan’s life. She looked down at the once grand beast laying before her with a taste of melancholy overwhelming the taste of fresh blood. Dropping her lycan form, she began to cry. This creature has been with her for over half a year, and now its life is to end abruptly by her blade. Was she really better than her family then? She killed a creature simply to become more powerful, how was that any different than what her mother had done herself? She leaned down to place her hands upon the bloodied fur of this dying beast, for her hand to simply pass through as if he failed to exist. The moonlight seemed to bathe her more intensely than it was just mere moments ago, and the voice of her only companion for the last six months echoed in her mind.

“You’ve done well, and you’ve grown strong. I can feel the guilt that now possesses you, and I ask of you to turn it to grief instead. Not grief for me, I was a mere puppet created to help you achieve your goals, but grief for all that you failed to save over these last six months you’ve spent learning,” a brief pause allowed that realization to sink in, “and take that grief, and turn it into a desire. A desire for vengeance. Use that desire to sharpen your blade, and fuel your craft. You have designated yourself, as well as your descendants to a war that may never end, and the only person you may rely on is yourself now.”

And with that final statement, the lupine body dissolved into the moonlight from which it was born, and Mir’kael was left alone once again.

That tale only lasted until approximately four in the morning, but it succeeded in keeping everyone awake. Another hour was spent listening to Ar’kael tell his own tale. At the age of five, he was a fully initiated Bloodhunter, the youngest in his family’s history. Two short years afterwards, his mother and father perished in order to allow him to escape. Timothe was staggered back by the news. This boy had been on his own for half of his life, running from his ancestors in an endless battle, having followed the steps of Mir’kael, in that he must rely on only himself. It was at that moment that Timothe made a pledge. He promised to Ar’kael that he would keep him, and raise him as if he were Timothe’s own son. Timothe also swore in that moment that he would pledge himself, as the Champion of the Raven Queen, to aid Ark’ael in his eternal quest. 

In that moment, whether from exhaustion or fury, even Timothe himself did not know, Timothe ran his own sword along his forearm, causing the blade to glow with a golden radiance as his blood poured on to it. The vampires on the bank of the river recoiled in fear at this sight, and Timothe charged forward, followed by Ar’kael who underwent his transformation once again. The pair managed to slice their way through three of the vampires despite having been deprived of sleep, though had it not been for the first light of the morning sun cresting over the mountains, they may have said farewell to their lives in that moment.

The fight itself may not have lasted all that long whatsoever, but to the warriors who witnessed it, it felt like eternity. As the last of the vampires made their way back into the forest, the group made their way to the opposite side of the river, and immediately collapsed on the shoreline. Tired yet relieved, every last one fell into a deep slumber bathing in the morning sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vampires, lycanthropy and bloodhunters. The first of each all wrapped up in one chaotic chapter. I hope you enjoyed, and feedback is more than welcome


End file.
